The Price of Wisdom
by Phanfan925
Summary: Hetalia/Hogwarts X-over England decides to teach at Hogwarts to keep an eye on the Boy Who Lived. But the Trio become suspicious of their new professor... Can England keep his status as a country a secret? And what does Voldemort want with him?
1. Preparations

**Summary: (Harry Potter / Hetalia Axis Powers Crossover) England decides to teach at Hogwarts to keep an eye on the Boy Who Lived. But the famous Trio (Harry, Ron, Hermione) are becoming suspicious of their new professor... Can England keep his status as a country a secret? And what does Voldemort want with him?**

**Pairings: Not much to say, although there is a **_**bit **_**of Ukraine/Canada much later on. If you don't like that pairing, don't worry, like I said it doesn't appear until much later on, and there shouldn't be a whole lot of it.**

**Rating: T**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Hetalia blah blah blah**

* * *

Red.

It was such a beautiful colour, really. Stunning, even. So pretty... and yet, so harshly bright and blinding to the eyes.

England had always had mixed feelings about red. It represented all that was good and all that was evil in the world. Love, passion, evil, sacrifice, blood... all depicted in a single shade of brilliant colour...

He coughed again, and red splattered the sink that he was currently leaned over. His body shuddered with unhealthy, rattling breaths.

It was strange. He shouldn't be reacting so harshly to a single attack. This wasn't natural.

Another hacking cough, another added dose of red.

England examined the red with critical but almost curious green eyes. The source of the red was his own blood.

Why was this happening to him?

With a deep, shaky sigh he washed the blood down the sink and wiped the remnants of the thick red liquid from the corners of his mouth before walking into the parlour and sitting down heavily on a sofa. He tiredly closed his clouded green eyes and focused on breathing. Breath in... breath out... in... out...

When his breathing was relatively calmed, England opened his eyes and again and considered his situation. This last week he had been having occasional violent coughing fits, like the one he had just recently endured in the loo. He knew _why _this was happening, of course. Voldemort had been out having fun killing "muggles" lately. (It didn't help that that _damn useless _ministry hadn't been doing a _thing._)No, England completely understood the _why _factor of his situation, he had after all felt and experienced his people's death through their eyes... What he didn't comprehend was why it was causing him _this _degree of pain and suffering. The Dark Lord had been surprisingly quiet lately, keeping to the shadows and maintaining a low profile to avoid arousing the suspicion of the Ministry. So what explained the repeated bleeding from the mouth? Those types of things only happened to a country if he or she experienced _severe _loses, not one or two random deaths.

Sighing again the nation of England stood and stretched his aching muscles. England felt something click deep inside of him. This _could _not go on. England resolved at that moment that he wouldn't stand by and do nothing any longer while his people continued to be in the threat of cruel murder. Of course, there'd be a limit to just how far he'd be able to interfere with He-who-must-not-be-named's plans, but he had to do at least _something_.

England growled and tightened his fist agitatedly.

_If _**I **_can't kill You-know-who... _England mentally growled. _I am going to make SURE that the Chosen One DOES... I don't know how much of this I can take. _

Almost instantly England's ungentlemanly anger evaporated at the thought of the Chosen One... to be more accurate a knobbly-kneed, gangly, messy-haired boy of a mere 15 years. Harry Potter. The great nation of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland had observed the boy with interest since the day of his birth.

"...I think it's time I paid Hogwarts another visit..." England said aloud thoughtfully. "It's been... what? A thousand years or so? Give or take a few years? Besides, I need to keep an eye on Potter, and what better way to watch over the lad than to be his teacher? Not only that, but if a full-out magical war is indeed on the horizon, then I think it would benefit me to assist in the instruction of the next generation of witches and wizards to prepare them for the gruesome war that will surely come to pass."

With a nod England swiftly stood and brushed off his clothes. "It's settled then. Now I think I'd better contact that Dumbledore fellow."

* * *

To say that Professor Dumbledore was surprised when a large tawny owl swooped into his office, clutching a envelope and screeching loudly, would be an understatement. Dumbledore was not startled easily, but he had not been expecting a letter, least of all from such a obnoxiously loud creature at the ungodly hour of two o'clock in the morning.

Fawkes lifted his feathered-head from his perch and curiously regarded the noisy owl briefly, as if he himself was also baffled at the unexpected letter.

"Thank you, my friend," thanked Dumbledore in a quiet voice as he removed the envelope from the owl's presented leg. The owl ruffled it's feathers and flew to stand on the edge of his desk.

Dumbledore quickly opening the letter and withdrew a square piece of parchment. The words on the parchment were written with green ink and exceptionally neat and elegant hand-writing.

_To Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_I would like to discuss the vacant position of Assistant Profesor, which has been open for some time. If you are interested, please contact me by use of owl, so that we may organize an appropriate meeting time to discuss wages and my qualification._

_I know that your first impulse will be to politely refuse my offer, but before you do, I implore you to at least consider giving me a chance. I promise that I won't disapoint you..._

_Arthur Kirkland_

Humming thoughtfully Dumbledore placed the letter gently on the desk. The letter had been formal, but direct and brief, going straight to the point.

An Assistant Professor? Hogwarts hadn't hosted such an occupation in years. They were hard to come by, since not many people were willing to put enough work and dedication into such a time-consuming role. Their last Assistant Professor had died a rather painful and messy death. An Assistant Professor, while sounding rather easy, was actually a difficult job. It required someone who was qualified to teach all available classes and subjects offered at the school. An Assistant Profesor served as a stand-by substitute, and was also responsible for carrying out the occasional odd, and often dangerous tasks.

Very well. He would give this "Arthur Kirkland" a try.

Dumbledore grabbed another sheet of parchment and quickly scribbled down a response. After securing his reply onto the leg of the owl, it swooped out the window and into the night air.

Hmmm... Dumbledore realized, he hadn't heard of anyone called "Arthur Kirkland" before... well, it would be foolish to assume that he knew EVERYONE in the British magical community...

* * *

England shifted uncomfortably in his seat under Dumbledore's intense gaze.

"So glad you were able to make it today, Mr. Kirkland." said Dumbledore kindly, breaking the awkward silence.

"Thanks for allowing me to come... and considering my proposition."

Dumbledore shrugged. "Naturally I was curious. I couldn't just turn you down without letting you plead your cause. Alright, let's get down to business." Dumbledore leaned forward over his desk and eyed Arthur critically, but not unkindly. "Let's discuss your training. I want you to be completely honest with me: are you qualified to teach the courses offered here at Hogwarts?"

England closed his eyes and leaned back into his chair. "I have had much experience with magical creatures, and in my studies have managed to earn the trust of some rarer breeds of creatures." At these words England snapped his fingers and and his friendly companion Flying Mint Bunny appeared hovering over his shoulders.

"Hi England! You called?" she chirped, nuzzling England's already messy blond hair with her dainty nose.

England coughed nervously. "That's her nickname for me. "England"."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow but didn't make any comments. England mentally let out a sigh of relief that the Headmaster hadn't questioned Flying Mint Bunny's slip up in names. The last thing he needed was Dumbledore being suspicious.

"I just wanted to show you off to this kind man here, my magnificent Flying Mint Bunny friend," cooed England. "You can leave now, if you want." With a parting lick up the back of England's head, the Flying Mint Bunny disappeared with a puff of mint-smelling smoke.

"That was very impressive. It is rare for Flying Mint Bunnies to appear for humans and tolerate their presence without fleeing, let alone for you to befriend one." conceded Dumbledore, his eyes sparkling with awe.

England nodded in acknowledgement. "Thank you for your kind words. I am also reasonably accomplished in the Dark Arts, erm, that is to say... Defense AGAINST the Dark Arts. I could assist in the teaching of the subject if the need arose."

"Would you mind giving me a demonstration?" Dumbledore asked politely, his face intrigued.

"Of course," said England, standing and retrieving his old wand from within his pocket. England gripped the wand uncertainly, having not used such a device in many, many years. He preferred using more... primitive, forms of magic, and often did not require a wand. Before coming to have the job interview, England had spent a good hour digging through his drawers to find his old wand, which had lain abandoned and collecting dust somewhere in his worn dresser for who-knows-how-long. It was a simple oak wand of nine inches with a unicorn tail hair core.

England then proceeded to cast a variety of spells, many of which were advanced. Some of the more simple spells and hexes included a stunning spell, impendimenta, incendio, and exploding spell, a fully corpeal patronus charm, a disarming spell, a few different charms such as a levitating charm, a petrifying hex, a memory erasing spell, and many others. England then moved on to the more complex defense spells.

When he had finished with his demonstration, England felt deeply shocked that he had remembered all these spells despite not using wand-required spells for hundreds of years.

Dumbledore clapped his hands together in applause, and England in response made a mock bow to the praise.

"Well done, Mr. Kirkland," said Dumbledore, his eyes alight.

For the next hour Dumbledore continued to question Arthur on his abilities, including what potion-making experience he had, what knowledge he had with history and muggle habits (England almost snorted aloud at that question, but he had to remember that to teach Muggle Studies a Professor needed to know this kind of stuff. Still, it was almost comical how little wizards knew about their less-magical counterparts.), if he was good with astronomy and runes, and if he had experience with children.

Finally, Dumbledore lowered his glasses and clasped his hands together, announcing that they were done. "It seems that everything is in order. From what you've shown and told me tonight, you are a exceptionally talented wizard, especially considering your youth. You seem more than qualified to take the position of Assistant Professor, if you are willing to accept it. As you know, your duties in this occupation will encompass many things. Currently, our gamekeeper and Care for Magical Creatures Professor, Rubeus Hagrid, is on leave, so you will fill in for him until his return. The school will also require you to substitute if any teachers find themselves unable to do fulfill their responsibilities. If any Professor require assistance in demonstrations while teaching, you will be obliged to fulfill this role. As for your wages, the school will provide you with 120 galleons a month _if _you are performing satisfactorily. If you shirk or find yourself becoming lazy, galleons may be docked from your salary. So... what say you?"

England nodded curtly, his green eyes narrowing with determination. "I accept."

Dumbledore smiled and shook England's hand warmly. "Welcome to Hogwarts, _Professor _Kirkland. At the start of term you will be expected to report here to begin your work. I look forward to seeing you again in September."

"It's been a pleasure, Profesor Dumbledore," returned Arthur politely, standing up and striding out of the room.

* * *

There was one problem that had to be dealt with if England was going to be teaching at Hogwarts for a year. This issue was that England could not neglect his job as a country. Most of the paperwork he could take care of during his free hours at Hogwarts, but someone needed to represent the United Kingdom in his place while he was absent. Someone needed to take notes and participate in meetings with the other Nations in his place.

And that was why Arthur found himself standing in front of his brother Wales' house in the rain.

After a few knocks on the wooden door, it swung open to reveal the face of Wales, that upon seeing England shivering at his doorstep immediately morphed into an expression of shock and disbelief.

England shifted slightly, his messy blond hair soaked to the scalp. "Well, don't just stand there with your mouth agape. Will you let me in already? It's bloody freezing out here."

Slightly flustered, Wales reluctantly ushered England inside.

"Just what do you think you're doing here, Arthur?" Wales grit out in a growling voice, getting right to the point and pushing all pleasantries aside.

"...I need your help," England admitted grudgingly.

Wales' eyebrows rose at this confession. "You need _my_ help." he repeated dubiously.

"Yes, well, a bit... See, I'm going to be away for a bit-" began England nervously.

"Where will you be going?" interjected Wales curiously.

"Well, if you _must _know, I'll be working at Hogwarts."

"Eh, that's surprising... you don't strike me as the teaching type."

"I'll get along just fine. Anyways, as I was _saying_, while I'm gone I'm going to need someone to fill in as the representative of the United Kingdom at meetings."

Wales' green eyes narrowed as he scratched his whiskers thoughtfully. "...Why not just ask Ireland, or maybe Scotland?"

"Because lately Scot and Northern Ireland have seemed to develop an unpleasant habit of regularly drinking themselves senseless. And you KNOW how they are when they get drunk-"

"No worse than you." Wales pointed out bluntly.

"Shut your trap. I avoid alcohol like it's the plague." England sputtered, his face slightly flushed.

"Whatever you say." said Wales sarcastically, not in the mood to get in a petty argument with his brother.

"And I can't entirely trust Northern Ireland, because you know how impulsive he can be... And with my luck Scot would probably bring Nessie with him to World Meetings..." England drifted off with a shudder.

Wales stood there for a moment, considering his brother's proposition. "Does Scottie know you're going to be teaching at his school?" he asked after a moment of pondering.

"What do you mean _his _school?"

"Well, it _is_ on his terf..."

"It's as much my school as it is his," England huffed.

"Mmhmm, whatever, so does he know?"

"Of course he knows. He said he doesn't really care that I'm teaching there."

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence between the two brothers. Neither was entirely sure how to act around the other. In the past, they had never really gotten along well, but lately Wales and England had been warming up to each other slightly.

"So, will you help me out...?" England finally pressed.

"Eh, sure, I'll owl you any papers that require your attention and attend the meetings in your place." Wales conceded with a casual shrug.

"Thanks so much Wales, you're a lifesaver." said England with relief and gratitude lacing his voice.

"Yea, yea." muttered Wales, uncomfortable with being thanked so sincerely by his younger brother. "Now get out of my house, your clothes are soaking the carpets."

* * *

England was currently at a World Meeting, listening to his fellow Nations bicker and argue over petty things. On any other occasion, England likely would have been avidly participating in the pointless yelling, but today he was more serious and less tolerant of the usual nonsense that accampanied World Meetings.

"Why so quiet, Angleterre?" questioned France, his hand slowly drifting towards the grave England.

Irritably England slapped the Frenchman's hand away before rising and placing both hands on the table, pointedly ignoring France's question.

"Excuse me, everyone, can I have your attention briefly?" he called out.

No one responded.

England sighed and tried again, but there was still no response.

"HEY! LISTEN FOR ONE SECOND PLEASE."

Finally there was silence. Almost everyone in the room turned to stare at England with stunned expressions, shocked at his uncharacteristic bout of anger.

"Thank you," murmured England with satisfaction. "I'd like to make an announcement. I thought it best to warn you that in a months' time I will be absent from any meetings in order to take care of some... delicate national issues. However, my older brother Wales will be here in my stead. While I am gone, I'd prefer if none of you sought me out. ...That means you America." England glared warningly at America, who in turn pouted slightly.

"But Iggy! Where are you going?" America asked, his expression slightly "put-out". A few other countries murmured in questioning.

"None of your business. And don't you dare come looking for me young man, I need a bit of isolation. With you around it's impossible to get any peace and quiet." England scowled.

America did not seem in the least bit fazed at England's unkind words, being used to the gruff manner of the elder country. He did seem a little sad about England's announcement though.

"Very well, we shall respect your wishes, Britain," consented Germany. There were sounds of acknowledgement and agreement from the other Nations. "We hope that this matter will be resolved quickly, that you will soon be able to join us again." Germany continued formally.

England nodded in gratitude. _Let's hope..._

* * *

**Next chapter has some Harry!**

**Now I know I should probably be working on my other fics... and believe me, I am! But lately I've had some writers block, and suddenly got a BUTT LOAD of inspiration for this! THOSE DAIN PLOT BUNNIES JUST WON'T LEAVE ME ALONE AARGHSGD**

**Happy New Years!**

**AndIknowIpromisedtofinishTheCursedAmuletbefore2014... BUTBUTBUTBUT ;W; I PROMISE TO FINISH IT SOON OKAY IT'S ALMOST DONE ANYWAAYS *sobs***

**Anyways, I plan on updating this pronto!**

**Review please! It encourages me to writer faster! **


	2. Day One

**Summary: (Harry Potter / Hetalia Axis Powers Crossover) England decides to teach at Hogwarts to keep an eye on the Boy Who Lived. But the famous Trio (Harry, Ron, Hermione) are becoming suspicious of their new profesor... Can England keep his status as a country a secret? And what does Voldemort want with him?**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Hetalia belong to their rightful owners. I do not own either.**

* * *

**Harry**

* * *

Finally, the start of term had come. After a dreadful, nightmarish summer with the Dursleys, Harry Potter was more than ready to start another year at Hogwarts.

At the moment he was on the train to Hogwarts in a compartment with Ginny, Neville, and some strange girl named Luna who was reading a magazine upside down. Ron and Hermione were currently in a Prefect meeting, leaving Harry feeling strangely lonely. This had been the first time he had ridden to Hogwarts without the company of his two closest friends.

Harry had been relieved to be out of the halls of the train and in a compartment. Walking down the corridors was a nightmare with people whispering about him behind his back. People had always talked about Harry, but after the Cedric incident last year... the rumours had become much more worse.

Neville was chatting about a new exotic plant he had gotten for his birthday. Something called a... mimble tonic, mimbulusatonia? Something like that? Harry was having troubles paying attention and remembering the name of the ugly, wart-covered cactus-like plant.

At that moment Neville was proudly demonstrating his plant's "defense mechanism" by pricking the plant's bumpy gray skin with a quill. Just then, dark green, rancid-smelling goop spurted from the agitated plant onto the walls of the compartment and all of it's occupants.

Harry, ever the unlucky one, got a mouthful of the stinking stuff. To put it lightly: it tasted like crap.

It was at that moment that Harry's crush from last year, Cho Chang, decided to stick her head into the compartment. Talk about bad timing...

"Oh... hello, Harry," she said, nervously eyeing the gunk covering Harry. "Um... bad time?" she continued sheepishly.

_That's an understatement_, thought Harry to himself with embarrassment. It was lucky that the thick green liquid was covering his face, so Cho couldn't see him blushing like a brand of flame.

"Oh... hi." said Harry, his mind blank and not knowing quite what to say in this situation.

"Um... Well... I just thought I'd say hello... bye then," Cho awkwardly closed the sliding-door of the compartment and rushed away with pink-tinged cheeks.

Groaning, Harry despairingly went limp in his seat. He was almost certain that he had not made a good impression on Cho...

After a clever use of the spell "_scourgify_" by Ginny, the stinking sap of the plant immediately disappeared without a trace.

"S-sorry..." whispered Neville in a meek voice.

An hour and some wizard candy from the trolley later Ron and Hermione rejoined Harry in the compartment. Harry was glad that he would be able to spend the remainder of the train ride with his two oldest friends. Together they moaned and complained about Draco Malfoy's recent appointment as a Prefect, Harry and Ron made plans of how they could abuse Ron's new status as a Prefect to torment Crabbe and Goyle, and just joked and laughed together, enjoying eachother presence. However, no one laughed harder at Ron and Harry's jokes than Luna Lovegood, who in her mirth dropped her upside-down magazine. Harry managed to steal a glance at the strange looking magazine, and saw some rather odd and far-fetched titles for articles within the magazine on the cover, which was labeled "_The Quibbler_".

_Corruption in the Quidditch League: How the Tornados are Taking Control_

_Secret of the Ancient Runes Revealed_

_Personifications of Countries: They are out there!_

_Sirius Black: Villain or Victim?_

"Can I read this?" Harry asked curiously, bending down to retrieve the magazine.

Luna couldn't speak, still laughing at some joke of Ron's, but she nodded in consent.

Harry began to read the story about Sirius, as that had been what had caught his attention in the first place. The article went on to say that Sirius Black may not be a horrific murderer, but in fact was innocent of his crimes and was actually a singer named Stubby Boardman of the band _The Hobgoblins_.

_What nonsense_, thought Harry in disbelief. _Well, at least the got the part about Sirius being innocent right..._

Harry then proceeded to flip through the other articles in the magazine. There was a story about Fudge ordering goblins to be cooked in pies, which was _definitely _rubbish, an article about sacred runes that when read upside down, supposedly revealed a secret spell (this explained why Luna had been reading _The_ _Quibbler _upside down...), a story about how the Tornados Quidditch Team were cheating, and finally an article about countries being alive. This story suddenly grasped Harry's interest.

_For thousands of years rumours and tales have circulated about beings who personify the Nations of the world. Great men and women who represent their Nations and who fight in the wars of their respective countries. Sightings have been reported since the beginnings of civilization, and yet the Ministry refuses to acknowledge even the possibility of countries being people._

Harry paused in his reading. This was strange. He had never heard of something like this before. The idea of countries being people as well as land-masses and goverments just seemed to far-fetched, and yet... it was still intriguing.

Hermione glanced over his shoulders at the magazine, sniffing with disdain slightly. "Anything good in there, Harry?" asked Ron. "Of course not, Ron." Hermione said scathingly. "Everyone knows that _The Quibbler _is absolute rubbish. I mean, look at this article here. The idea that countries could be _people_, I mean, honestly..."

"Ehem," interrupted, Luna, her voice suddenly serious and lacking the dreamy-quality it usually had. "Excuse me, my father is the editor..."

"Oh, um, I... well, it's rather interesting, um, quite... yes..." muttered Hermione, suddenly looking extremely uncomfortable.

"And for the record, countries _are real. _As real as the Crumple-Horned Snorkak." Luna added with passion."I'll have it back now, thank you." she said, coldly reaching for the magazine with an icy stare.

Harry concluded that Hermione was right, and pushed everything he had read from _The Quibbler _to the back of his mind.

Time passed, and an unfortunate visit from Malfoy and his goons later, the train arrived at Hogsmeade. Ron and Hermione left again to help supervise the unloading of passengers. Luna helped Harry carry Pigwidgeon's cage. Meanwhile Harry was listening for the familiar, gentle booming of Hagrid's voice, calling out the usual "firs' years, firs' years, firs' years over 'ere..." But instead, Harry heard a very different voice, a strict and authoritative voice.

"First years, this way! All first years, over here!" said the male voice.

Harry caught a glimpse of the man who was yelling. He was a lean but thin man, who stood straight and tall with almost perfect posture and appearing to be in his early twenties. He was wearing a muggle suit, and was holding a lantern. In contrast to his bearing, his golden hair was messy and unkempt, not unlike Harry's own hair, but not quite as wild. His eyes were deep green, and looking into them from a distance seemed to remind Harry of the Forbidden Forest: dark and mysterious. Pulled over his eyes were the thickest pair of eyebrows Harry had ever seen on a person, and they made the man look permanently serious.

"Where's Hagrid?" he confusedly wondered aloud.

"Dunno, but we'd better get out of the way, we're blocking the door..." said Ginny.

"Oh, yeah..."

Harry strained his neck in the crowd of students leaving the train, peering over the heads of passengers for a glimpse of his friend Hagrid. _He can't be gone, he has to be here... _thought Harry to himself. Spending time with his old friend Hagrid had been one of the things Harry had most being looking forward to at Hogwarts. However, Harry saw no sign of his large friend. _He's probably just sick of something..._

Harry made his way to where to horseless carriages usually stood waiting for the students, but this time the horseless carriages were no longer quite so horseless...

Deadly still creatures were hitched up to the carriages, but though they maintained an equine-like shape, they weren't quite horses... They almost seemed like an undead mix of a dragon and a horse. They were skeleton like, with absolutely no flesh clinging to their bones. Their black leather skin was pulled taught over their bones. Their heads were sharper than a horse's, and lacked the round features typical to a regular horse. The heads almost seemed to have... a reptillian look about them. They had wings like Pegasi, but instead of the beautiful feathery wings of a winged horse, they were bat-like, like a dragon's. The eyes were the worst, dead and milky white, like they were blind... except they pierced through your very soul.

Harry could not understand why the school would use such ghastly and horrible horses when they could just as easily enchant the carriages to pull themselves.

Soon Ron, Ginny, and Hermione came and joined Harry in a carriage. While they waited for Luna to reemerge from the crowd with Ron's owl, Harry mentioned the horses to Ron.

But no one in the carriage could see the strange horses. Only Luna Lovegood claimed to be able to see the deathly creatures.

* * *

**England**

* * *

Since England was to take over Hagrid's duties in the half-giant's absence, he stood waiting at the platform in Hogsmeade to wait for the train, so that he could escort the first years to the castle. When the train arrived, England quickly proceeded to usher the nervous but excited children towards the lake and into little boats. After loading all of the children into the boats, England placed himself in a boat with an anxious little girl with red hair. England gave the firm command of "Forward!", and the boats pulled themselves from the beach and began to move, propelling themselves towards the castle that was slowly looming in the distance.

As the magnificent castle came into view, with its great towers and turrets and light-filled windows, the first-years were immediately struck with awe. Their mouths fell open and their large, innocent eyes grew wide to make a very comical picture. England chuckled lightly at their expressions.

After a moment, England tried to engage in conversation with the little, lonely girl that he was sharing his boat with.

"Hello, my dear," he said in his most gentle, kind voice possible. "What's your name?"

The little girl meeped quietly and looked up at England shyly. "R-rose. Rose Zeller," she said. her voice barely louder than a whisper.

England smiled comfortingly. "How are you, Rose? I'm Professor Kirkland." (Goodness, did it feel weird to refer to himself as a "Professor"...)

"I'm good... a little jittery..." she admitted meekly. "It's nice to m-meet you Professor..." she added.

"There's no need to be nervous," England reassured her with another smile. "You'll do just fine."

"R-really?" she said her eyes hopeful.

"Really," he affirmed.

"Thank you..." she said gratefully, her eyes less panicked and filled with a bit more confidence.

When the boats made it to Hogwarts, England helped unload the first years, and then proceeded to deposit them in the Headmistress' care to be orientated and then sorted. The Headmistress, a woman named Mrs. Mcgonagall. England said goodbye to Rose and made his way to the Great Hall.

As he walked between the house tables to the head table for staff at the head of the hall, he felt eyes on him and hushed whispers.

England seated himself near the far end of the table, closest to the Slytherin table, next to a man with greasy black hair, pale skin, a large hooked nose, and cold dark eyes. The man turned to stare frigidly at England, his thin, sallow fingers twitching slightly.

"...I don't believe we have met," he said. "I am Professor Snape, I teach Potions here," he introduced himself in a monotone voice. "And who might _you _be?" Snape inquired with a cocked eyebrow.

"I'm Kirkland. Arthur Kirkland. I'll be taking the post of Assistant Professor this year. I'm looking forward to working with you in the future," England replied formally, though secretly he was taking an instant dislike to this so-called "Professor Snape".

"A pleasure," murmured Snape, his eyes contradicting his words. It was obvious that he found England's apparent youth amusing, thinking himself superior. Snape instantly turned to face forward again.

_Well... that was a warm welcome... _England thought sarcastically.

More and more children began to file into the Great Hall, filling in the tables and chatting to each other about their summers. England saw Harry Potter enter, and the whispers that accompanied his entrance were almost deafening.

Soon the first years filed in anxiously, led by Mrs. Mcgonagall and lined up in front of the staff table. The Headmistress put a stool in front of them, and placed the ancient, ripped Sorting Hat atop the stool. Everyone was silent and attentive when the hat suddenly sprung and up and burst into song:

_In times of old, when I was new,_  
_And Hogwarts barely started,_  
_The founders of our noble school_  
_Thought never to be parted. _  
_United by a common goal,_  
_They had the selfsame yearning_  
_To make the world's best magic school_  
_And pass along their learning._  
_"Together we will build and teach"_  
_The four good friends decided._  
_And never did they dream that they_  
_Might some day be divided._  
_For were there such friends anywhere_  
_As Slytherin and Gryffindor?_  
_Unless it was the second pair_  
_Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw,_  
_So how could it have gone so wrong?_  
_How could such friendships fail?_  
_Why, I was there, so I can tell_  
_The whole sad, sorry tale. _  
_Said Slytherin, "We'll teach just those_  
_Whose ancestry's purest."_  
_Said Ravenclaw, "We'll teach those whose_  
_Intelligence is surest."_  
_Said Gryffindor, "We'll teach all those_  
_With brave deeds to their name."_  
_Said Hufflepuff, "I'll teach the lot_  
_And treat them just the same."_  
_These differences caused little strife_  
_When first they came to light._  
_For each of the four founders had_  
_A house in which they might_  
_Take only those they wanted, so,_  
_For instance, Slytherin_  
_Took only pure-blood wizards_  
_Of great cunning just like him._  
_And only those of sharpest mind_  
_Were taught by Ravenclaw_  
_While the bravest and the boldest_  
_Went to daring Gryffindor. Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest_  
_and taught them all she knew,_  
_Thus, the houses and their founders_  
_Maintained friendships firm and true._  
_So Hogwarts worked in harmony_  
_for several happy years,_  
_but then discord crept among us_  
_feeding on our faults and fears. _  
_The Houses that, like pillars four_  
_had once held up our school_  
_now turned upon each other and_  
_divided, sought to rule._  
_And for a while it seemed the school_  
_must meet an early end._  
_what with dueling and with fighting_  
_and the clash of friend on friend._  
_And at last there came a morning_  
_when old Slytherin departed_  
_and though the fighting then died out_  
_he left us quite downhearted._  
_And never since the founders four_  
_were whittled down to three_  
_have the Houses been united_  
_as they once were meant to be._  
_And now the Sorting Hat is here_  
_and you all know the score:_  
_I sort you into Houses_  
_because that is what I'm for._  
_But this year I'll go further,_  
_listen closely to my song:_  
_though condemned I am to split you_  
_still I worry that it's wrong, Though I must fulfill my duty_  
_and must quarter every year_  
_still I wonder whether sorting_  
_may not bring the end I , know the perils, read the signs,_  
_the warning history shows,_  
_for our Hogwarts is in danger_  
_from external, deadly foes_  
_And we must unite inside her_  
_or we'll crumble from within_  
_I have told you, I have warned you..._  
_let the Sorting now begin. _**(c) J.K. Rowling)**

One of England's thick dark eyebrows rose in interest. The Sorting Hat rarely gave warnings... only in times of extreme caution. That meant that the situation in his country was even worse than he thought... and it was only going to get worse.

The first child to be sorted was placed in Griffyndor, and as the sorting went on, England did his best to push his worries to the back of his mind. Rose Zeller, the little girl England had talked to on the way to the castle, was sorted into Hufflepuff, and England clapped extra loud for the bright eyed, red-haired girl as she made her way to her new house's table. He caught her shining, elated eyes as she sat down, and gave her a rare wink of congratulations. Rose beamed.

As the last of the applause faded away, Dumbledore stood to begin his start-of-year speech.

"To our newcomers, welcome! To our old hands, welcome back! There is a time for speech-making... but this is not it. Tuck in!"

At these words a magnificent feast appeared on the tables, beckoning those who were seated to gorge themselves.

_So much for the start-of-year speech... _Arthur thought, chuckling lightly to himself. _I think I fancy a nice biscuit_, he decided, reaching for delectable-looking biscuit.

Once everyone had stuffed themselves silly with _excellent _British cooking, **(A.N. England is very defensive of his cooking, XD)**, Dumbledore began his speech for real. He started with the usual warning to not wander into the Forbidden Forest, and a reminder of the caretaker Filch's rules of "no magic in the halls" and certain prohibited magical items. Next, Dumbledore moved on to the new additions to the Hogwarts teaching staff.

"We have two changes of staffing this year. We are pleased to welcome Professor Dolores Umbridge and Arthur Kirkland on board this year. Professor Umbridge will be taking over the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, and Professor Kirkland has consented to become an Assistant Professor here at Hogwarts. He will be filling in for any absent or incapacitated staff members. Professor Kirkland will be taking care of the Care for Magical Creatures Lessons, and will also be teaching some History of Magic classes, alongside Professor Bins. (there was a round of applause at this statement.)"

Dumbledore continued to talk about other matters, such as the tryouts for Quidditch, before he was suddenly interrupted by that Umbridge woman.

"_Hem, hem,_" came her voice.

She then proceeded to stand, and it became clear that she intended to make a speech of her own.

At that moment England got his first real look at Dolores Umbridge. ...She was from the Ministry, England was sure of it. If he remembered correctly, she was the undersecretary to the Minister. She was a short, unpleasant little woman that looked an awful lot like a toad. Her eyes were bulging, and her mouth was rather wide. England had also never seen so much pink on a single person before.

Umbridge smiled a sickeningly-sweet smile, but her large, toad-like mouth ruined the image. She spoke her own, dull speech, which mostly comprised of hints that the Ministry would be interfering with how things were being run at Hogwarts.

Great. Just _great_. The last thing England needed was the Ministry interfering at the school. This could create unlimited problems... The Ministry still refused to accept that You-know-who was back, and no doubt this Umbridge woman would but a stopper on Defense Against the Dark Arts training for the children, even though the students would need to be prepared for a future war that England was sure was on the horizon... Not to mention that England was not keen on a Ministry official snooping around... she may become suspicious and discover his secret.

England sighed as Umbridge seated herself again. _Well, I got through my first day... ten months to go..._

* * *

**Rose Zeller is an actual character in Harry Potter. She is mentioned only once to my knowledge, in the 5th book. I decided I wanted England to interact a bit with a first year. :3**

**Just a filler chapter, sorry that it's similar to the book.**

**Review please! It helps me write faster!**


	3. Officially

**Summary: (Harry Potter / Hetalia Axis Powers Crossover) England decides to teach at Hogwarts to keep an eye on the Boy Who Lived. But the famous Trio (Harry, Ron, Hermione) are becoming suspicious of their new professor... Can England keep his status as a country a secret? And what does Voldemort want with him?**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Hetalia belong to their rightful owners. I do not own either.**

* * *

**England**

* * *

England opened the door to his accommodations, ready to get a good night's sleep after an exhausting day. England had eaten rather light at the feast, but all that delicious food inside of him still was making him drowsy... What he needed was some blissful rest before he began teaching tomorrow.

Inside the door was his new office, a simple room with blank white walls, equipped with an oak desk, a few padded chairs, some curtain-less windows looking out towards the lake, a fireplace, and two large, empty bookshelves. On the right wall there was another door leading to his private, living quarters.

"Not bad, not bad..." England commented to himself quietly, admiring his new office. Sure, it would need some spicing up, and he would need to provide curtains for the windows and books for the shelves to make it less empty-looking, but overall, this was better than he had expected.

England moved on to the next room. Like his office, the bedroom was simple, but practical and cosey. The walls were bare, so he would need to fix that, and against the far wall was a four poster bed made of dark wood, and with dark gray sheets, covers and curtains. There was another door in the bedroom that was open, leading to a goodly-sized bathroom with a bath and shower and toilet.

Yawning, England deposited his trunk and suitcases on the ground beside his bed. He would have to put off unpacking until tomorrow... right now he just needed some sleep...

* * *

Glorious morning sunlight pierced through the windows and danced gently on England's irritated face, making his eyes sting from the brightness. With sigh he pulled himself upright and threw back the plain gray covers, running a hand through his untidy hair and across his face tiredly.

It was the first day of classes. England's first day of teaching. He had fought in countless wars, been in almost every dangerous situation imaginable, but that still didn't stop him from feeling uneasy at the prospect of _teaching_...

He had History of Magic first with the 5th year Griffyndors. Potter would be amongst them. ...And England had barely prepared a lesson to teach them.

Crap, just _crap. _

"In hindsight, going straight to bed might have been a bad idea," England muttered, cross at himself. England was not usually much of a procrastinator, but he had just been so _tired_...

Ah, well, he probably wouldn't have to do much anyways. Since it was the first day, he would be able to get away with a simple introduction to their curriculum, what they would be learning that year with him and what-not...

_Damn, _he was going to be late if he didn't get a move on.

With frantic haste England threw on some ridiculous black wizard robes and discarded his more practical and professional suit. England was not a fan of the traditional wizarding garb. Although he had many capes and cloaks that he donned when participating in magical ceremonies, these items of clothing were loose and were adorned _over _his every-day clothing, so it was less uncomfortable and didn't make England feel as silly... But he had to remember that clothing like this was the norm for wizards nowadays, so with gritted teeth he would just have to deal with it.

He doubted that he had time to run down to the Great Hall or the Kitchens to grab a bite to eat, so instead England just yelled out "house elf!", and a Hogwarts-employed house elf immediately appeared.

"S-sir!" squeaked the house elf excitedly. "How may I be of s-service!"

"Could I have something to eat please? Something mellow... like porridge?" he hurriedly asked, though careful to maintain an air of politeness and to not rush the creature.

"Of course sir! We'll bring it right up!" with a pop, the elf vanished, and three seconds later a bowl of deliciously-smelling oat porridge with a glass of orange juice stood waiting for him on his desk in his office.

"They work _fast_," England stated appreciatively.

* * *

**Harry**

* * *

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were eating breakfast in the great hall, discussing Hagrid's lack of appearance, and the Sorting Hat's warning about the houses needing to unify the previous night before the sorting.

"Us? Get along with the Slytherins?" Ron asked incredulously. "Fat chance. That old hat is off its rocker. It's mad if it thinks the Slytherins will _ever _'unify' with the rest of us, or that anyone else from the other houses will even _want _to be united with those jerks." Ron snorted.

Hermione immediately scolded Ron for his attitude, and for "not giving the Slytherins a chance" and "not taking the Sorting Hat's wisdom and advice into account." Harry, however, had to agree with Ron a bit with this... He found it hard to believe the Slytherins would ever get along with the other three houses...

In their morning conversation, the trio of friends had also concluded that Hagrid must still be on a mission for the Order, and that that was the reason why Dumbledore had not drawn attention to his absence during the start-of-year-speech.

Mrs. Mcgonagall soon made her yearly rounds handing out new time-tables at the Griffyndor table.

"What do we have today?" Harry asked, pausing from eating his breakfast to peer over Ron's shoulder at the time-table he was holding.

Ron tossed the schedule down on the table childishly. "What a day! Look at this rubbish! History of Magic, Double potions, Divinition, and Double Defence Against the Dark Arts with that toad... all in one day!"

Hermione looked over her _Daily Prophet _to glare disapprovingly at Ron. "There's no need to throw a tantrum, Ron." she scolded lightly. "Besides, I'm looking forward to History of Magic first. I wonder how that'll be..."

"Probably as boring as ever."

"But that new Professor might be teaching."

"Oh right! I'd forgotten about that." said Ron, his eyes suddenly more hopeful and less gloomy. "Anyone is better than Binns..."

Hermione lightly smacked Ron up the side of his head, admonishing him for his rudeness.

* * *

After breakfast, the three friends packed up their things and headed to the History of Magic classroom, helping out some confused first-years along the way by giving them directions through the ever-changing labyrinth of Hogwart's halls. To their disappointment, when they got there, Kirkland was no where to be seen, and Binns was already present, floating on thin air with a bored expression on his face.

"I guess he won't be teaching today," Hermione noted quietly, sitting down in a desk near the front and pulling out her books and notes from her bag. Harry and Ron reluctantly followed suit.

"I didn't see him at breakfast," Harry commented.

Just then the door slammed open, and when Harry turned with the rest of the class to investigate the noise, the sight that met their eyes was Professor Kirkland, panting slightly and in black wizarding robes rather than the muggle clothes he had been wearing yesterday.

After his entrance, Kirkland seemed to regain his bearings and strode forward to the front of the room, turning to face the class.

"Good morning," he said politely, his forest-green eyes surveying the class and coming to rest on Harry for a moment. "I am Arthur Kirkland, your new Assistant Professor here at Hogwarts. I will be teaching some of your History lessons on request of both Professor Binns and Professor Dumbledore." Professor Kirkland went to a desk that Binns never used next to the podium at the front of the classroom where Binns liked to drone out his speeches. He then proceeded to take the class' attendance, his eyes never leaving the registry. Once he had completed that, he went to stand next to the ghost of Professor Binns.

"Dumbledore has asked me to bring something new to this class, erm. Apparently, it has come to Dumbledore's attention that some very repetitive subjects have been taught, for example, werewolf revolts, giant wars... the goblin rebellions..." he began.

"_Fascinating _subjects," Binns commented dully.

"Yes, I quite agree," said Arthur. "However, lately Professor Binns here has developed a desire for... a vacation of sorts. For these reasons, both Binns and I will be sharing the load here in History of Magic. Sort of a... teaching collaboration. Understood?"

There were murmurs of "yes" throughout the classroom.

After a pause, Binns spoke in his dull, unemotionless voice. "Well then, Mr. Kipling, I'll leave them in your capable hands," he said, drifting out through the blackboard. "Good luck." were his parting words.

Professor Kirkland didn't seem to let it bother him that Professor Binns had got his name wrong.

"Right, now, how many of you have your books with you?" he inquired, leaning against the speaking podium.

Three people tentatively raised their hands, Hermione among them, though she was more eager than the others. Kirkland nodded gruffly, storing the new information away for future reference. "I'll expect those with books to bring them to my class, as they can be very beneficial if used correctly. However, for my classes, they will not be as necessary." Hermione looked a little horrified at that. Books? Not as necessary? This was obviously blasphemy in Hermione's mind.

"It is to my understanding, that this past four years you have been taught in a dominantly lecture-style?"

There were a few nods. Harry was shocked, so far this was the longest the entire class had been awake in a History of Magic class.

"Right," said Professor Kirkland, nodding himself. He suddenly stood straight and erect, looking suddenly important and imposing. "History is not to be taken lightly!" he announced in a bold but calm voice, shocking the unexpecting class slightly and causing Harry to jump a bit in his seat. "There are some who say that the past is not important, that it should be forgotten... But history is what makes us ourselves. It's what makes us who we are and the world we live in today. History is connected to your own stories, for you are the present, and do not forget, that one day _you yourselves _will be a part of history. But what you must decide for yourself is whether you want to be remembered or not... and what you want to be remembered _for_. What I will teach you this year is the story of _you_..." England's eyes roved the attentive classroom, his voice and eyes challenging. "You just have to be clever enough to see it..." England paused, his eyes suddenly taking on a sorrowful, reminiscing quality about them. "We also need to remember history, so that we do not forget the sacrifices of others, and so that we do not repeat the mistakes of our past..."

Moved and awed by passion of Kirkland's speech, the class fell silent, deeply considering his words. ...Harry had never thought of history that way before... when you thought of it that way, it made things much more personal and interesting. It was clear now that the class was inspired and eager to engage in the lessons, more so than they had been in the past four years of taking the class.

"It has come to my attention that your current history texts and sources are severely lacking... biased towards _magical _history... What many do not realize, is that magical history is so intimately connected to "Muggle" history, that the world you live in today would not exist without the influence of non-magical folk. I know that some of you may hate me now for saying this, but non-magical history is just as important as... petty goblin rebellions, or any chapter in our proud magical history and heritage. Please, for those who may be prejudiced and opposed to this idea, I invite you to open your minds, and who knows, you may learn something new and interesting..." Many students seemed shocked at England's words, but just as enthralled in what he was saying. "This year we will be focusing on the "World Wars"," said England, walking over to the chalk-board and writing down the dates "1914-1918" and "1939-1945" in neat, crisp writing...

**l**

* * *

"That was amazing," Hermione sighed. "His introduction was spectacular! The way he spoke about history... and the way he describes the battles... like he was really there! I don't know, I just, I just feel like he has such charisma."

"Don't tell me you fancy him now," Ron sniffed.

Hermione blushed, her eyes suddenly fierce and defensive. "I am just appreciative of his teaching methods!" she defended vehemently.

"Yea, you and every other girl in the school," Harry teasingly joked as they passed a pack of giggling Ravenclaws, hovering outside of the History of Magic classroom and whispering things like: "Did you see him? He's so handsome... and I hear he's smart, too!" Hermione shook her head with hopeless disgust at the love-struck girls.

"I'm just grateful he didn't give us any homework the first day. I have a feeling Snape isn't going to be so merciful in Potions... He'll probably assign us some difficult essay..." Ron shuddered.

"You're probably right," Harry agreed, his mood suddenly dark at the reminder of spending two whole blocks with Snape and the Slytherins.

* * *

**l**

It was lunch, and Harry was doing his very best to drown out the grating sound of Draco Malfoy's voice.

"Did you hear him? As if events in the muggle world even had _a little _influence on us... hmn, pathetic," Malfoy snorted contemptuously to Crabbe and Goyle from across the room at the Slytherin table. Malfoy's goon's nodded stupidly. It was obvious that Draco wasn't as impressed by Professor Kirkland's intro to History of Magic as the Griffyndors had been at first period. "I mean, as if History of Magic couldn't get even worse, now we have to learn about _muggles _too? My father is definitely going to hear about this..."

Ron groaned, placing his hands over his head. "Does that pratt _ever _shut up?" he complained loudly.

"And did you see him last night at the feast? Wearing muggle clothing of all things... Bet he's a mudblood..."

Hermione suddenly growled, standing swiftly upright with her hands on the table. "He's gone far enough," she said, and Harry and Ron watched with bemused amazement as she stormed over to the Slytherin table. Malfoy ceased speaking and looked up in surprise, before quickly composing himself and retaining his typical arrogant, self-important expression.

"What are you doing here, Mudblood?" he drawled boredly.

"Professor Kirkland is a great Professor. You're just too pig-headed to see it." she stated, her eyes blazing, before turning on her heel, her bushy brown hair flying behind her.

* * *

**England**

* * *

Smiling, England stepped back into his office with a satisfied air about him. He had managed to teach all his classes that day without embarrassing himself, despite his initial worries. _Not bad_, he congratulated himself. Perhaps he would be able to teach these young witches and wizards something new after all.

With the day almost over and nothing else left to do, the ancient Nation resorted to unpacking his things. He pulled out some of his favourite novels and texts from his trunk and placed them on the empty bookshelves in his office. By the time he was done unloading all the books, the shelves looked far less sparse. Next he unpacked his clothing from his briefcase and distributed all of his other personal belongings throughout the room. The rooms looked a bit more "homey" now... but he would still need to paint the walls and add curtains at a later date. But it was a start...

Now that he was settled, England found himself bored again. He decided he'd better go out and socialize with the other teachers, get to know his co-workers better. So with this thought in mind he walked down to the staff room lounge.

In front of the entrance to the staff room were two stone gargoyles that flanked the door. Their carved faces were fierce and repulsive, obviously designed to repel any unauthorized students from entering.

"New teacher, eh?" said one of the gargoyles, his words less of a question and more of a statement. "Go right on in."

The staff room had many brown chairs, varying in size, design, and material, that were scattered throughout the room at random, often in clusters. The room was long, and on the far end there was a large clock hung on the wall above a roaring fireplace, indicating the time to be seven o'clock. Mrs. Mcgonagall, the Ministry-hag Umbridge, a short and squat Witch covered in dirt that England did not recognize, and an even shorter wizard with intelligent and playful eyes. To England's relief Professor Snape was no where in sight. He was not entirely in the mood to deal with him. The four Professors looked up as England stepped through the door, giving him welcoming smiles (although Umbridge's smile seemed too fake and falsely sweet to be genuine).

"Professor Kirkland, how good it is to see you," said Mcgonagall, her usual strict, no-nonsense-manner slightly reduced and not as potent now that she was no longer in the presence of her students.

England walked deeper into the room and seated himself in a fuzzy brown armchair by the extremely small wizard, whom England was begining to suspect may be part goblin.

"It's nice to see you again as well, Professor." he greeted.

"Please, call me Minerva."

England blinked slightly in surprise but smiled. "Only if you call me Arthur."

"Very well, Arthur. I don't believe you've formally met the others? Allow me to introduce you to them. This is Pomona Sprout," she said, gesturing to the witch covered in dirt. Arthur gathered that she taught herbology. "And this," she continued, nodding at the smaller wizard. "Is Fillius Flitwick." Mrs. Mcgonagall's eyes suddenly narrowed slightly, not enough for most people to notice, but still enough to display her discomfort. "And this is Dolores Umbridge," she grit out, formally introducing the toad-like woman in a fuzzy pink cardigan. England nodded politely at each of the teachers in turn.

_The other three teachers seem uncomfortable with Umbridge here, _England noticed.

For the next hour England wasted time by talking with his fellow teachers. He found that he got along rather well with Sprout, Flitwick, and Mcgonagall, but although Umbridge was rather civil in their conversation, there was something about her that made England uneasy... England found a kindred spirit in Mcgonagall, who approved of similar teaching styles and ideologies to his own. He had a fascinating time discussing the techniques of tending to Devil's Snare and Snargaluff with Professor Sprout, who seemed delighted that someone else had an interest in Herbology. He also had a good time conversing with Flitwick, who England found to be rather intelligent and fun to talk with, and England later discovered that both he and Sprout were the heads of the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff houses.

When England finally bid his co-workers goodnight, he felt like he had gained some friends amongst the teachers here, or at least they were fond of him. But he wasn't so sure about that Umbridge woman... he would keep an eye on her, but then again, lately England had difficulty trusting _anyone_ from the Ministry.

* * *

**Review please! Next chapter is when things begin to pick up a bit! Just bear with me! **

**Thank you all to those who reviewed chapters 1 and 2. You guys are the reason I have been able to update so quickly! 3 Mwuah! Kisses for you all!**


	4. Mysteries

**Summary: (Harry Potter / Hetalia Axis Powers Crossover) England decides to teach at Hogwarts to keep an eye on the Boy Who Lived. But the famous Trio (Harry, Ron, Hermione) are becoming suspicious of their new professor... Can England keep his status as a country a secret? And what does Voldemort want with him?**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter was created by J.K. Rowling. Hetalia Axis Powers was created by Hidekaz Himaruya. Harry Potter and Hetalia belong to their rightful owners. I do not own either.**

/

**Harry**

* * *

Harry never thought that he'd hate any teacher as much as Snape... but Professor Umbridge was putting up a fair fight for his number one "least favourite teacher" spot. Not only did she deny Voldemort's return, dismiss Cedric's death as an accident, and insist on making him write lines with his own blood for detention (Harry was pretty sure that that classified as "child abuse"...), but she also refused to allow the use of magic in her classroom.

Professor Kirkland, however, was quickly proving to be both competent and generally likeable. Although Harry wished that Hagrid was teaching Care for Magical Creatures instead, he did enjoy Kirkland's lessons. For their first few weeks of classes, Kirkland brought in a beautiful, blue-manned female Unicorn that he referred to as "Uni". She had been a slender and graceful animal, nervously prancing and whinnying. However, to the surprise of Hermione, Kirkland had been able to easily calm the animal with only a simple touch to the nose. He had also been able to let the boys approach the Unicorn, despite Unicorn's usual uneasiness around men. Hermione had been awed at the Professor's obvious connection with the animal. For a man to befriend a Unicorn was both bizarre and often an impossibility.

"How long have you known eachother?" she had asked Kirkland in wonder one class, while he patted "Uni" gently on the neck.

"A long time," Kirkland had replied vaguely. Uni nickered in agreement. The bond between the Professor and the creatures he showed in class was all too evident. In this way, he reminded Harry of Hagrid.

Kirkland had given every member of the class an opportunity to pet the Unicorn, even the boys, which had been a cool experience since the boys hadn't had much of a chance to interact with the unicorns last year. When it had been Harry's turn, "Uni" had at first pranced nervously, and Harry could not help but admire the animal's beauty and grace. Her gleaming coat shone through the tiny bit of fog that clung to the grass and her legs, and her wild eyes still had a sort of gentleness about them. Kirkland quickly comforted the unicorn with a mere touch to her withers, and had beckoned for Harry to approach. Harry had tentatively stretched forth his hand and laid his fingers on the unicorn's forehead, directly underneath her golden horn that was almost blinding to look at directly. Kirkland grabbed Harry's other hand and placed his palm in front of "Uni's" nose. Uni's nostrils had flared slightly as she took in Harry's scent. Then, she did something that shocked Harry. As if sensing that he was more scared of her than she was of him, she had stretched forth her horn and placed it directly over Harry's heart. Despite the chilly and humid atmosphere, warmth had gradually spread from the point of the horn through his veins, slowly encompassing his body in warmth. Harry could only compare the experience to eating chocolate after an encounter with a Dementor.

Meanwhile, History of Magic continued to be interesting, at least when Professor Kirkland taught it. But even when Binns took over, Harry and his fellow students had begun to see history in a new light. They could now listen to Binns drone on without immediately falling asleep, and some subjects were even intriguing when they made connections and related what they had learned from Kirkland to what Binns was talking about.

In Kirkland's classes, they started off by going over the assassinations of Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife, Duchess Sophie, of Austria, and then learning about Austria's declaration of war against Serbia and the alliance betweem Germany and Austria. However, the class seemed to have no inkling of muggle weapons, except for a few muggle-borns (and Harry, of course, who had been raised by the Dursleys), and even they only knew what they had gathered in the occasional movie. This hindered most of the students ability to comprehend and understand what Kirkland was teaching them and put them at a bit of a disadvantage. What did it mean when he said that the Archduke and his wife were "shot"? some students had wondered with together. Upon hearing this, Kirkland resolved to give them all a demonstration on some muggle weapons.

One day, Kirkland led them from their classroom and down onto the Quidditch pitch. It had been transformed into a miniature shooting range. On the far end of the field stood three round targets. In front of Kirkland was a large black case and a machine that Harry didn't recognize. From the case he withdrew what Harry recognized as a pistol.

"For those who do not know what a "gun" is..." Kirkland swiftly turned his back and fired three times in quick succession. Each bullet hit the target dead-on. The resulting ear-splitting bangs from the pistol caused most students to cover their ears, and some to even cower on the ground in fear.

"B-bloody hell..." whispered Ron in shock.

Kirkland turned around to gaze at the shell-shocked students with amusement. "Behold, the mighty and brave Griffyndors..." he mused aloud thoughtfully. "That was just a little pistol. The sound is nothing compared to the more devastating weapons they used in World War One. During the time the Machine Gun had just been invented, and it changed the way that wars were run forever. No longer could you afford to stand in the open on a battlefield. This was no musket... you had to have cover or you'd be hewn down before you could scream."

Next Kirkland once again reached into the case and retrieved an old rifle of some sort. Harry couldn't tell what kind it was, as he was no expert on guns. Kirkland tapped the machine that Harry had noticed earlier with her foot. "This is a dry fire clay shooting simulation." he explained. Everyone tilted their heads with confusion. "You may want to cover your ears..." he continued. After fiddling with the machine for a second, a bright orange clay disk flew from the machine with a loud whoosh before promptly shattering into a million pieces from the even more deafening sound of Kirkland's rifle. If the pistol had been loud, then the rifle was loud enough to wake the dead. The explosion had been quite spectacular, as Kirkland had hit the disk in just the right spot. Fragments of coloured clay flew in every direction and rained onto the grass.

This had to be the most interesting History of Magic class ever taught at Hogwarts, Harry concluded mentally to himself.

Kirkland turned again to address the wide-eyed class. "These are just two examples of the great variety of "guns" that muggles have invented and used in wars and other affairs. Deadly when used correctly and accurately, they are rather popular weapons... These two that I have with me aren't quite what they used back in World War One, but you get the idea, right?" The class nodded numbly. They had had no idea that the muggles had such powerful tools. The guns almost made the Killing Curse look like a joke.

_Almost, _thought Harry, and before his eyes flashed a brief vision of Cedric Diggory, bathed in green light, his eyes lifeless...

/

Things got worse as time went on. Hogwarts was changing too quickly for Harry's liking, and not for the better.

Dolores Umbridge was soon made "High Inquisitor" of Hogwarts. And thus, she began to inspect some of the classes and their respective teachers. As if it wasn't enough dealing with her in detention and Defense Against the Dark Arts, now Harry had to deal with the "Pink Hag from Hell" (as Ron almost affectionately dubbed her) lurking in the corners of some of his other classes, like some kind of deranged, pink vulture.

First she made an appearance in Divinition, and it was brutal and almost painful to see Trelawney struggle through the lesson. It was plain to see that she was not at all accustomed to someone observing her lessons. Umbridge even had the nerve to demand a prediction from the poor woman, and although Harry was no fan of Trelawney, he couldn't help but feel some sympathy for the poor woman.

Umbridge nearly threw a fit when she discovered that Kirkland had used Muggle guns in a class demonstration for History of Magic. One of the students in Ravenclaw had accidently let this information slip in a conversation with their friends during breakfast, and Umbridge had overheard it. Apparently, such "dangerous and primitive muggle objects" were "unsuitable for a magical institution". Harry had a feeling that Kirkland was not one of Umbridge's favourite people, but that just made him all the better in Harry's books. It was easy to assume that the Assistant Professor was sort of an advocate for Muggles, and although his past was still a mystery to the majority of the school, Kirkland's popularity with the students was on the rise, even amongst the Slytherins, surprisingly.

He was really starting to like the thick-browed, scowling teacher who seemed to fancy muggle clothing. Kirkland had also been growing on Ron and Hermione as well. It was easy to assume that the Assistant Professor was sort of an advocate for Muggles, and although his past was still a mystery to the majority of the school, Kirkland's popularity with the students was on the rise, even amongst the Slytherins, surprisingly. This peculiar phenomenon flabbergasted Harry and Ron to no end. Why some of the Slytherins would take a liking to a "blood traitor" of sorts was beyond them, but Harry supposed that even they couldn't resist the certain charm that the kind teacher seemed to possess.

/

It was Tuesday, which meant Care for Magical Creatures again.

Despite a dreadful detention with Umbridge the night before, Harry walked with a slight bounce in his step down to the grounds and Hagrid's cabin. The grass was covered in a glittering layer of dew that was currently forming, and thus the ground on the slope leading down to the forest was a bit slippery. This caused Ron to slip on his bottom at one point, and Hermione and Harry couldn't help but let out a few giggles at his expense. Harry leaned over and offered a hand to the bright and blushing face of his friend.

"Bloody grass..." Ron had muttered in annoyance, accepting Harry's hand. "Don't blame the grass, blame the moisture," said Hermione. Harry had let out another chiming laugh at Ron's humorous words as he pulled him up to a standing position.

Hermione tilted her head slightly at Harry's ringing laughter and his obvious happiness. "What's got you so happy Harry?" she inquired curiously. "Not that I'm not pleased, of course," she quickly explained.

Harry just shrugged. "I don't know, I guess I'm just glad to be away from Umbridge for once." Harry hadn't seen the pink-garbed witch for the majority of the day, and this had greatly lifted his spirits. He had also started to get used to the whispers of his fellow schoolmates, and had been able to ignore their scathing and mocking remarks with more ease.

Hermione smiled. "Well, I'm happy that you're happy."

"Yeah mate," agreed Ron with a grin. "No offense, but it's a bit of a pain in the arse when you're all gloomy." Harry waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, hopefully my good mood lasts."

Unfortunately, the sight of Dolores Umbridge standing behind Kirkland with her clipboard ready was enough to dampen Harry's "good mood".

Ron cursed under his breath, mirroring Harry's current thoughts. "'Can't escape from that Hag for very long, can we?" he groaned.

No, Harry was _determined _to ignore her and have a good time.

"Good afternoon you lot," greeted Kirkland. "Is everyone here? Good. Today we'll be learning about fairies, _and _we'll be having a guest with us. Please welcome Dolores Umbridge, I trust you already know her from your Defence classes. Please, pretend that she isn't here. She will simply be observing today's class, so behave as you normally would."

Umbridge raised an eyebrow but didn't add anything.

Kirkland raised his voice and called out: "Hello pretties, mind coming out and letting the class see you?" At first, nothing seemed to happen. But then, all the sudden some members of the class gasped as dainty little fairies appeared in mind air, hovering and excitedly circling over Kirkland's head like satellites on an overdose of caffeine. With their reflective transparent, insect-like wings, they were pretty little things, and they made little high-pitched and fast chittering and twittering noises that were a little annoying. Kirkland raised his hand, and gestured to each fairy in turn. "This is Flo, Tina, Pep, Rala, Nib, and Bel." They fairies seemed to be constantly grooming themselves, but as each of their names were called, the fairies seemed to pull back their hair and bat their eyelids with extra fervour. "Now remember, fairies are not the most intelligent of creatures, but these six will respond to their given names. ...Usually." said Kirkland. "I want you all to break into six equal groups. You will each be given a fairy, and I want you all to take notes on their behaviour and sketch the patterns on their wings for this class. Well, hop to it them!" The class set out to follow Kirkland's instructions.

For the most part, the class went rather smoothly. Umbridge didn't do much, and usually refrained from interrupting the class's activities. However, she did ask Kirkland and some of the students a number of questions. Although Harry had promised himself that he would keep his cool in Umbridge's presence, he felt himself snap as he heard Draco's degrading responses to questions asked by Umbridge about Hagrid. He couldn't help but defend his friend.

"If you had just listened to Hagrid's instructions, Buckbeak would have never attacked you!" said Harry loyally. "It's not Hagrid's fault!"

This led to another night's detention from Umbridge.

Next Umbridge moved on to Kirkland. Once again, many of her questions seemed centered around Hagrid.

"You wouldn't happen to know where Professor Hagrid is on leave, would you?" she asked Kirkland, who currently had Pep the fairy perched on his finger, nibbling on his finger nail.

"No ma'am, I'm just filling in."

"Oh, pity," she muttered. "No one seems to know where he is. I do hope he's alright and that he returns soon." Harry could tell that Umbridge could care less about Hagrid's safety. She simply wanted to know what mission Dumbledore had sent Hagrid on, and for what purpose.

"So far, you're performance has been satisfactory," informed Umbridge, writing something on the clipboard. "I am extremely interested in where you received your education. Certainly you went to Hogwarts for your primary education, correct? What other school would prepare you for such a promising career? Besides, perhaps, Durmstrang."

Was it just Harry, or did Kirkland shift uncomfortably from this question?

"Yes, I attended Hogwarts for my first seven years," said Kirkland cautiously.

"You did? Splendid," Umbridge smiled her gruesome, too-sweet smile. "What house were you in?"

"Slytherin," stated Arthur without hesitation.

Harry was taken aback, including everyone else in the class who had overheard this interesting bit of information. Harry would have never imagined Kirkland as a _Slytherin _of all things. A Ravenclaw, maybe, but a _Slytherin_? Draco Malfoy and many of the other Slytherins looked equally surprised. ...But, Arthur Kirkland _defended_ muggles, and didn't allow the word "mudblood" to be said in his classes. There was no way he could have been a Slytherin. Hermione's face became unreadable as she stored away this information for future reference.

"Wonderful." said Umbridge. "Slytherin was my old house as well, you know."

Somehow, this revelation surprised Harry less...

By the end of class, most of the students had left for the castle, except for Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Hermione had dropped her books, and Ron and Harry had felt obligated to help her gather them up again in her bag. It was a bit of a shame that Hermione carried an entire library-full of literature around with her. Harry found it impressive that she was even able to lug all those books around with her for the day. Umbridge scribbled some final notes on her clipboard before looking up at an expectant Kirkland.

"Well, Arthur, _you_ at least seem to know what you're doing," confirmed Umbridge, though her body language betrayed that this was a grudgingly-made admittance. "You'll be receiving the results of the inspection in a week's time."

"Joy." murmured Kirkland, and even from a distance, Harry could detect the hint of sarcasm in that single uttered word. Umbridge leaned forward with a toad-like smile and bored her also toady eyes into Kirkland's own green ones.

"I thought it fair to warn you that I'll be keeping an eye on you,_ Professor_," she hissed in an openly hostile voice.

Harry froze at the tone of Umbridge's voice. He stole a glance at his friends and saw similar expressions of shock conveyed on their faces. An unspoken communication passed between the three close friends, and they all fell silent, straining to hear the conversation (or rather _confrontation_, if Umbridge's behaviour was anything to go by.) between the two Professors that were now inches from each other's faces.

"Oh, for whatever reason?" asked Kirkland disinterestedly, though Harry thought he could see a hint of fear in his eyes.

"Oh please. Some random wizard requesting the job of Assistant Professor, shows up out of nowhere, with no known records in the ministry, at this crucial point in time... Hardly a coincidence. I don't know what you're up to, Professor Kirkland, but believe me, I _will _find out..."

Umbridge turned on her heel and stalked ominously back to the castle. The trio quickly followed, shaken to the bone.

/

"Well that was interesting," said Ron, flopping down on seat in the Griffyndor common room. For the rest of the day, the trio had been unable to discuss the newfound information they had unearthed in Care for Magical Creatures. After dinner and astronomy, the common room had gradually emptied and they had finally found an opportunity to talk about it.

"That's an understatement," muttered Harry, sitting down as well. Hermione followed Ron and Harry's example, seating herself near the blazing fireplace that emitted waves of warmth.

"Can you believe it?" said Ron thoughtfully. "Kirkland, a Slytherin? Blimey, and I thought he was an OK bloke. 'Reckon he was telling the truth?"

"Yes," said Hermione. "I think he was telling the truth."

"How can you tell?" asked Ron, his face doubtful.

"Just from his face, his voice... I think he'd have to be a really convincing liar to pull that off. Besides, Slytherins aren't all that bad, really. It's entirely plausible that Kirkland is a Slytherin." Hermione answered.

Ron snorted. "They're all the same."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione opened her mouth to scold Ron, but before she could, Harry quickly interjected.

"What was with Umbridge threatening Kirkland like that earlier? And what did she mean when she said the Ministry had no records on him? That's not possible is it?" asked Harry curiously, scratching his head.

Hermione threw her hands into the air with frustration. "Who knows?" she proclaimed. Harry started: for once, Hermione _didn't _have an answer. "I do know one thing, though," she added. "We need to do more research on the subject."

Hermione made a vow to go to the library the first thing in the morning. For the rest of the night before going to bed, the trio had discussed various possibilities to explain what Umbridge had said to Kirkland earlier.

For the past four years, the school year at Hogwarts had always held a mystery for the trio. Year one, it had been the Philosopher's Stone. Then followed the Chamber of Secret's and it's mysterious heir, then Sirius Black and his connection to Harry, and finally the Triwizard Tournament and Harry's unwilling enrollment in the dangerous event. This year... it was Arthur Kirkland. He was the next mystery to unravel.

The conversation moved from Kirkland, Umbridge and the Ministry to Umbridge's terrible teaching methods.

"We're not learning anything!" said Hermione, and Harry thought he noticed frustrated tears brimming in her eyes. "It's a crime to education. How are we supposed to pass our OWLs? And more importantly, how will we ever protect ourselves should we find ourselves in a bad spot?"

"I know," agreed Harry, though with considerably less fervour. "But what can we do?"

"If only we had a teacher of sorts, someone who really _knew _what it was like to face the dark arts and survive." said Hermione, her bushy-haired head resting against the back of the chair. "Someone who could tutor us..."

"But where would we find someone like that?" said Ron, his eyes drooping slightly from exhaustion.

Suddenly, both Ron and Hermione looked directly at Harry in unison, their faces mirroring each other. They stared at him like he was the answer to all their prayers, like he was the cure to cancer and the solution to end world hunger.

"What?" asked Harry, his face confused.

Hermione and Ron just grinned broadly.

/

* * *

**England**

* * *

England walked slowly back to his rooms, his eyes downcast and refusing to meet the gazes of students making their way back to their dorms. When he reached the door, he unlocked it and stepped into his office, leaning back against the door and closing it. With a huff he slid down the door until he was sitting on the ground.

His inspection with Umbridge had been... nerve-racking, to say the least.

It had taken all of his willpower to not throw a mini panic attack at Umbridge's declaration. England sighed. He had feigned perplexity at her words, but Umbridge was just as suspicious as she had been before, if not more. And it was only the first few weeks of the year! With his luck, the Ministry of Magic would know his secret within a few months. He was foolish to have come here... and yet, England couldn't leave now. Not after he'd met with and grown to care for the students in this school. He couldn't just leave them all... not with Umbridge here, anyways. Besides, it would be suspicious for him to suddenly bail out now, seemingly out of the blue.

In retrospect, maybe it hadn't been the best idea to break off all ties with the ministry all those years ago. England had noticed the growing corruption in the organization, and had begun to distance himself from the magical government. Now they had no idea who or what he was. Meanwhile, throughout the years England had maintained a flourishing relationship with his muggle government, despite the troubles he'd had with it. Now it seemed that it had been a mistake to let the magical ministry function without his assistance and influence.

With another sigh England heaved himself up off the floor and made his way to his bedroom. A good night's sleep would do him some good...

/

_A couple sat together in a loveseat, enjoying each other's company and taking comfort from the other's presence. They were non-magical, if their clothes and the non-moving photos of themselves were anything to go by. The woman had a slight bulge to her stomach, indicating an early pregnancy. The man's tired eyes were alight with happiness as he cuddled his wife._

_The happy scene was suddenly blown away as the front door slammed open. The couple jumped, entangling themselves from one another and looking at each other in confusion and fear._

_A creature stepped through the door, its red eyes burning with malice and murder. The thing could only be described as a creature, for there was no possible way that something so monstrous had once been a man. Its skin was pale white, its fingers long, thin, and skeleton-like, almost like claws. Humanity was non-existent in its smile as it turned to the horrified muggles. The woman screamed. The man yelled at the thing, pushing his wife behind him to protect her with his body._

_"Who the hell are you?! Get out!" The man tried to sound threatening, but his voice trembled in fear. His wife glanced at a phone lying nearby... if she could just make a dart for it, maybe-_

_Two flashes of green light, and the helpless couple was dispatched. The woman never finished her thought._

England woke up with a jolt, shuddering and convulsing. With a wail he ran to the loo, heaving over the sink and clutching the slick counter-top like it was a life-line.

/

Almost at that exact same moment in the Griffyndor common-room tower, Harry Potter woke up, trembling, sweating and shaken.

* * *

**Yes, Harry saw the same event as England. But while England saw it all happen more-or-less from the point of view of the victims (his people), Harry more-or-less observed it through the eyes of Voldemort. Plus, Harry didn't see the entire thing, just brief images and flashes of Voldemort's thoughts and emotions.**

**I am SOOO sorry it took me so long to finish this chapter! I lost the original chapter four, and had to start from SCRATCH. :/ As you can imagine, this really dampened my mood and it took me forever to get me motivation back and to rewrite the entire thing. The only reason I was able to continue was because of your continued reviews and support guiiisee. ;)**

**This was mostly a filler/foreshadowing chapter, sorry. ^^; More to come soon! **

**Sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes. I was in a hurry, so don't bother yourselves about it ^^.**

**Review please! It makes me write faster!**


	5. Panic, Moods, and Memories

**Summary: (Harry Potter / Hetalia Axis Powers Crossover) England decides to teach at Hogwarts to keep an eye on the Boy Who Lived. But the famous Trio (Harry, Ron, Hermione) are becoming suspicious of their new professor... Can England keep his status as a country a secret? And what does Voldemort want with him?**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter was created by J.K. Rowling. Hetalia Axis Powers was created by Hidekaz Himaruya. Harry Potter and Hetalia belong to their rightful owners. I do not own either.**

* * *

**England**

* * *

It was early in the morning, and the Great Hall was relatively empty except for a few early-risers. The Nation of Great Britain was among these individuals.

England gloomily spread butter on his toast, his tired green eyes drooping and his dishevelled blond hair hanging low over his head as he bent over his plate. He hadn't had the greatest sleep last night, and this showed in the lines etched in his face and the dark shadows under his dull green eyes.

Yawning, England sat back and rested his head against his chair, bringing the toast up to his lips so he could nibble on it slightly. His appetite wasn't 100% at the moment either...

With a sigh England abandoned his toast and rubbed his exhausted eyes with frustration. None of this made any _sense. _Last night's episode had _no _explanation whatsoever. Sure, in the past he'd coughed up blood before. That was regular occurrence during wars. But this was just a single killing... Voldemort had only targeted the two muggles... and for what... for fun... for sport... The thought of the couple's cold-blooded murders made England's blood boil. Sometimes, before You-know-who had been subdued by Potter, England had experienced brief glimpses and flashes of the emotions and thoughts of his people moments before their deaths. Especially when He-who-must-not-be-named for feeling particularly murderous. However... he had never actually seen a _vision _from the point of view of the victims like he had had last night.

With another huff England pushed these thoughts aside and focused on the _now_.

More and more students were starting to file in the Great Hall now, filling up their house tables and eagerly piling food onto their plates for breakfast. They were completely oblivious to the two murders that had been committed just last night, while they had all been fast asleep... England saw Potter, Weasley and Granger enter the Hall as well, chatting amongst themselves. Harry looked up, and England briefly met his gaze before the boy quickly looked down again, as if he somehow couldn't bear to stare at England in the eyes for more than a few moments.

England turned and let his eyes wander aimlessly around the hall. There was still a little over half-hour to go before classes started, and then he'd have to go and teach. But for now, he could just sit here and let his mind rest a bit. At one point, England even relaxed enough to have a pleasant conversation with Professor McGonagall. However, a few minutes later, England spotted Dolores walking through the large open doors to the hall, headed towards the staff table. England excused himself to McGonagall and left the hall, passing Dolores briefly, but not meeting her face.

* * *

**Harry**

* * *

/_a little while earlier_/

Harry walked into the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione, his mind anything but tranquil. He felt really troubled this morning... Last night, Hermione had tried to convince him to teach a study group some Defence Against the Dark Arts, which had took him by surprise, and to top that off, he hadn't slept well... His dreams had been very disturbed the previous night. They hadn't been quite nightmares, but had been in a category all their own. What made matters worse, was that upon waking, he couldn't really remember much of the dreams... Harry remembered feeling happy and gleeful, but not in a good way. In his dream, he had been... excited... about something. All he could recall was feeling murderous anticipation, and then he had woke up with his scar burning. The rest of the details of his dream were a complete mystery, and Harry had a sneaking suspicion that this was probably for the best... that he wouldn't _want _to know what he had dreamed.

Hermione kept on sneaking looks in his direction, her eyes flitting towards him from her book, and it was starting to annoy Harry a bit. He had vaguely told her last night that he would think about her suggestion to teach DADA to a study group, and she seemed to be eager for his decision. However, to her credit, she never once brought up the matter again or pressed him for a decision. instead letting him think privately to himself.

While walking to the Gryffyndor table, Harry let his eyes move up to the teacher's table and caught the eyes of Professor Kirkland. Green bored into green, and Harry found himself quickly looking down again. In his brief moment of meeting Kirkland's gaze, Harry had noticed something... off, about the Professor. His eyes, usually so lively and at the same time full of strictness, were now so dull and resigned. It was if Kirkland had just seen a man die,**(1) **or hadn't slept or eaten in ten days.

Ron nudged Harry and jutted his chin towards Kirkland. "Mate, have you noticed Kirkland doesn't look to well?" he murmured curiously. So it wasn't just Harry. Ron had noticed their teacher's distracted and tired condition as well.

Hermione looked up from a book she was carrying with her and looked at Kirkland discreetly as well. She frowned. "He _doesn't _seem his best, does he?" she agreed in bemusement. "I wonder what's the matter...?" she trailed off before shrugging in confusion.

"Everyone has their bad days, I guess." Harry commented, Ron and Hermione nodding in affirmation.

Ron quickly piled food onto his plate, scooping a spoon into bowls and depositing the contents on his growing pile of breakfast. Hermione, however, was so absorbed in her book that she eat very little in comparison, only distractedly biting into a scone as she hunched over her book.

"She must be bloody mental if she favours that book over a meal," Ron muttered to Harry. Unfortunately, even when immersed in her book, Hermione still had ears like a bat. She abruptly snapped her book shut, (not before swiftly inserting a book mark between the pages) and turned to face Ron.

"Have you forgotten, _Ronald_," she hissed slightly. "That I promised to do some research on Kirkland and his Ministry and Hogwarts records yesterday? And this is only the beginning. Today at break I'll be heading down to the library to get into some _serious _research."

"Oh, right," said Ron in realization.

"Besides, reading a book is _not _a waste of time. You should try it sometime," she added, partly snide and at the same time passionate.

Harry coughed uncomfortably. He really wished Ron would stop getting on Hermione's bad side, and that Hermione wouldn't be so impatient and quick to anger with him. "Erm, Ron? What do we have first?" he inquired, hoping to change the subject.

"Uh, Divinition, I think," answered Ron, pouring himself a glass of pumpkin juice.

"Right," said Harry, nodding before going back to his meal.

Breakfast passed quickly, and afterward Ron, Harry, and Hermione parted and went their separate ways to their classes. Harry and Ron bid Hermione goodbye before she left for Arithmancy and they began to make their way to the Divinition tower.

While talking with Ron, Harry accidentally bumped into something. It was hard and unyielding, like a stone wall. He bounced of the object and recoiled, looking up to see what he had hit. He was met with a pair of sullen green eyes, their usual vividness mostly absent.

"All right, Harry?" asked Kirkland tiredly, nodding slightly and brushing off his suit and walking around Harry before he could stammer out an apology.

"I could ask you the same thing..." murmured Harry quietly to himself, staring at the teacher's back as it turned around a corner. Ron nodded, his face a little concerned.

"He's definitely not in the right mind today," he said to Harry, his face a little confused.

* * *

/

**England**

**/**

* * *

Later in the day, England was teaching the 5th year Gryffyndor and Slytherins Care of Magical Creatures again, but at least this time Umbridge wasn't around to throw threats at his head. She hadn't reared her ugly head at him since yesterday, and seemed content to pretend as if nothing was amiss... But her declaration yesterday and really shaken England, more than he cared to admit. He was not used to humans taking such an active interest in him, and it made him uneasy at the prospect that Umbridge might uncover the truth.

As his students gathered on the lawn, awaiting the start of class, England was fully aware of the animosity between the Slytherins and Gryffindors, and the obvious division between the two groups. Each house stood separately, and there was no mingling between them besides the occasionally snappy comment. This made England feel a great sense of disappointment. He was fond of both these houses. Slytherin had been the house when he had briefly gone to the school all those years ago... and Gryffindor's symbol was the emblem of England, himself: the lion. If the ensuing war that England was sure would come to pass between Voldemort and his followers and the rest of the Wizarding world was to be won, then they needed to sway the Slytherins onto their side and mend the gap between the houses.

This class, he had brought back Uni for the class to study. His fairies had flown off somewhere today, and besides, they needed to go over the anatomy of a Unicorn for the upcoming OWLs taking place at the end of the year.

The females of the class were especially delighted to see Uni again, and Uni was delighted as well. She loved attention and the entranced students were more than happy to provide Uni with that much-wanted attention.

First, England had his students pull out their sketchbooks and draw and label Uni's horn. Then, (because he took pity on the members of the class who disliked drawing), he had them write down in-detail notes on the main body parts of a Unicorn. Their assigned homework was to write down six paragraphs on the purpose of a Unicorn's horn, and its properties.

The remainder of the class was mostly spent with a gaggle of girls and a bunch tentative boys stroking Uni. There was literally a mob of children surrounding her, but as long as England was in her sight, Uni was as calm and gentle as a lamb.

"She's such a sweet heart," cooed a Gryffindor girl, named Parvati Patil, her friend Lavender Brown making faces of agreement beside her. Uni lowered her head passively and nudged the two girls lovingly, as if she knew that she had just been complimented. England smiled a bit from afar, leaning against a tree and observing the scene. It had been the first time he'd cracked a smile all day, as he was still shaken and moody after his... "nightmare". Potter and a few other students looked up incredulously at the sight of England smiling.

"Have you ever ridden her?" asked Lavender, pausing in her patting to look at England.

England's eyes hardened a bit, and he was instantly back in a bad mood. "No, and I don't ever plan too." he said stiffly. "Uni is a friend and companion, not some common _pet_ or beast of burden to be used as some joyride."

Lavender ducked her head with embarrassment. "S-sorry Professor," she said meekly, her face a little hurt. "I was just curious..."

Almost immediately feeling guilty, England sighed and hung his head. Great, now he had gone and snapped at a young girl, just for asking an honest question... "Look, Miss Brown, I'm sincerely sorry, It was an interesting question, and I answered a little too harshly," he apologized. "I-I... I'm just not myself today."

"I-it's okay, Professor Kirkland," said Lavender Brown, her eyes softening in forgiveness.

After a few minutes passed Kirkland dismissed the class and they all trooped back up to the castle while England watched them by Uni's side.

"I don't know what to do, girl... about all of this..." he murmured to her, his hand resting on her back. Uni brought her muzzle up to Britain's cheek and nickered, blowing warm air against it as if to kiss it in comfort.

* * *

/

* * *

Finally, it was the last class of the day he had to teach. England had to teach the First Year Hufflepuffs History of Magic right now.

Once all the students were sitting in their desks, England walked down the rows, handing out a mini review quiz on what he had taught them so far so he could check their understanding see what they had learned. Then, once all the quizzes had been given out, he went back up to the front of the class and sat in the desk, observing them to make sure there was no cheating going on. All the First Years were dead silent as they hunched over their quizzes, their faces showing their concentration as they recalled dates and events.

As they wrote, Britain began to drift off into his thoughts, into a memory. He recalled the first time that You-know-who had... come out in public. He was there when You-know-who's reign of terror had officially begun...

/_FLASHBACK_/

_About twenty-four years ago, England was on his way to his brother's Scotland's house._ It was raining, and he had his coat drawn up over his head in replacement of his umbrella, which he had foolishly forgotten back home.

The four United Kingdom brothers usually had a... brotherly get-together of sorts, once every year. This time, it was Scotland's turn to throw it, so he had invited England over to his house for a drink. England, however, was NOT looking forward to this. Every year, no matter what the brothers' did, they usually ended up drunk and screaming at each other before trying to throw the other out of the house. This had happened every year for the last... 300 years or so? Even before there was a United Kingdom, they had still done this, in hopes of having a day they could just bond and respect one another. At first, it always seemed to work, but almost every time someone would pull out some liquor or they'd run off to a bar together... and all hell would break lose.

But this year, when England arrived at Scotland's house, with North Ireland and Wales already present, Scotland announced boldly that he was _determined _that they would all stay perfectly sober tonight. This was a relief to England's ears. He was sick of embarrassing himself at these gatherings (not that he and his brother's weren't drunk enough too remember much...), and tired of the massive headaches that usually resulted for the next few days.

With the good news that they were _not _going to go out drinking together this time (as fun and brotherly as that activity was...), England entered Scotland's house and into the drawing room, spotting Patrick (North Ireland) sitting on a couch, smoking a cigar from Scotland's stash. He'd obviously already made himself at home... but where was Wales? England's question was answered for him when Wales walked into the room from a connecting hall-way, giving England a brief incline of the head and a finger-wave as a welcome. England nodded in reply.

"How are ya, Arthur," said North Ireland casually, fondling and cigar and lighting it.

"Fine, and you?" answered England, directing the question to not just Ireland but Scotland and Wales as well. He was doing his best to try and start a friendly conversation.

"Just dandy," said Scotland, rubbing his nose, while Northern Ireland leaned farther into the coach, his eyes closing peacefully.

"Sooo, what are we gonna do?" said Scotland in his thickly accented voice, rubbing a bit of stubble on his chin.

"Hmm, I say we play a game of cards," put out England.

"What about a game of Phat?" suggested Wales. "There's four players here."

And thus, the four brothers began playing a game of Phat. England and Wales were on one team, while Ireland and Scotland were on the other. At the moment, Scot and North Ireland were winning.

"Ah, I can't take mach more of this. I need a beverage ur I'll die ur thirst." said Scot, throwing up his hands and standing.

"Nothing hard, I trust?" said Ireland. "Yer made a promise we wouldn't be gettin' trollied."

"Aye, It's nothin' alchoholic, I'm telling ya," promised Scotland, leaving the room. When he returned, he was holding an old bottle with no labels and four glasses.

He poured England a glass first, as he was closest. England was a bit wary, but he was so thirsty and focused on the game that he drank the glass right away without a second glance. When the first drop touched his tongue, England knew something was wrong... Oh no... Scotland must have swapped the bottle for one of his home-made Scotch bottles... the _extra special kind_... And Scotland's homemade Scotch was so strong it would be made illegal if humans discovered it.

"Oh, no..." murmured England, swaying in his seat a bit. His mind was going to sleep, and his thoughts were becoming scattered and incoherent.

Wales suspiciously sniffed a confused Britain's breath, recoiled in shock at the smell, and turned to stare incredulously at Scotland.

"What did you _do?!_" he yelled in horror. England was amused in his drunken state. This year's "brotherly social event" was not turning out like they'd hoped, England mused woozily to himself, his vision getting blurrier and blurrier. They were only a few hours into it and already they were starting to yell...

"Ooops..." said Scotland, sniffing the bottle. "Eh, that _might _have been the hard stuff... the _extra_ hard... _damn, _I was going to save that...Um, sorry Iggy, I accidentally gave ya a bevvy..."

England was deteriorating fast. Scotland and Wales' voices were becoming fuzzy, and his eyes began to glaze over. Scot's... "special brew", which was made by means of magic, was so powerful that it took effect almost instantly, and could quite possibly kill a human being if drunk by them.

"Ah, he'll be fine," said Scotland with a dismissive wave of the hand. "He just took one swig, after all."

Within a few minutes England was as drunk as a lord. North Ireland made the excuse of going to the bathroom so he wouldn't have to deal with ensuing chaos.

"Arg, gimme tat bottle," said England, reaching for the bottle that Scotland was holding with his inner-pirate voice coming out a bit for a brief moment.

Scotland withdrew almost immediately, clutching the bottle to his chest protectively. "Oi, you don't need oni mair!" he growled. "You're as blooter'd as it is an' aam savin' thes fer me!"

"Ah, belt up, you blooming pansy," said England, lashing out a hand and downing the bottle before throwing it at a horrified Scotland's head, where it promptly shattered.

Scot ducked, and came up with murder on his face. "Oi! You wanna go ya filthy highlander?! Get yar bleedin' carcass off me property before I-"

"Bugger off you! I'll stay as long as I wish," England slurred, his head lolling slightly.

"SHADUP!" screamed Wales, storming into the room. "You!," he yelled, pointing at England. "You need to leave and take care of yourself! And _you_," he continued, pointing at Scotland. "Need to stop giving Arthur your brew! You know as well as I do that he's a complete lush!"

"Am not!" bellowed England.

"CLEAR OFF RIGHT NOW!"

England stumbled out of Scotland's house, grumbling the entire way. He had enough sense even in his drunken state to call a cab to take him home, and Wales watched him leave, making sure that he didn't try and drive himself and kill some poor unfortunate old lady.

After pacing a bit and waiting for his cab, England came across a large group of whispering people, all fearfully crowded around something...

Almost immediately England became serious. He still wasn't quite sober. He still walked with a stumble and precarious lilting in his step, but his mind had awakened a bit and his eyes had cleared and were somewhat alert. His "inner-country" knew something was off... that something wasn't quite right... With determination and mumbled apologies he pushed his way through the crowd and into the middle to see what everyone was so scared of. The sight that met him was not a pretty one.

_THIS IS ONLY THE BEGINING_

These were the words written on the cobblestoned side-walk... in bright red blood that stood out against the dull gray stones.

It was signed.

_-Your Lord and Master Voldemort_

On the ground lay the bodies of a family of muggles. The wife's face frozen in eternal terror, the husband's arms protectively wrapped around her even in death... The children laying in a semi-circle around their fallen parents...

England gagged in disgust, doubling over slightly. His eyes got a little misty at this unnecessary loss... Who could have done this? Who was... Voldemort? England looked closer at the bodies, and realized that there was not a wound on their bodies besides a slight bruise over their chest... He now knew what had killed them. This had been the work of a rampant wizard using one of the unforgivables... the Killing Curse.

Now England noticed the peculiar-dressed people walking amongst the crowd, discreetly using memory charms on the ones in front. They were ministry wizards, trying to cover this up the best they could. Police sirens echoed in the distance, rushing to the scene of the crime.

You-know-who had struck for the first time, in Scotland. And like his message had implied, this had only been the beginning..

/_endofflashback_/

England was shaken out of his thoughts by students standing up and placing their tests on his desk. It had only been a memory... nothing more. England collected and gathered the remaining quizzes and quietly wished the Hufflepuffs a good night, sitting down heavily on his desk. He was loosing it... How could he handle a second wizarding war? Not knowing when or where You-know-who was going to strike...

Suddenly, England looked up in surprise. There was a student still standing there at his desk, looking at England curiously. He recognized her. It was Rose Zeller, the shy little girl he had escorted across the lake the first day of school.

"How are you, Rose?" asked England tiredly, but kindly "Doing well in your classes, I hope?"

Rose nodded timidly. "Yes sir."

"Do you need something, honey?" he asked gently, wondering why the girl was still here.

"Oh, no, sir. Actually, I have something for you, if you want it..." all the sudden the girl stuck her hand into her open book-bag and pulled out something small and soft and thrust into England's face, blushing furiously.

It was a kitten.

"Erm," said England, staring at the baby cat in confusion. "You had this thing in your bag the entire time...?" he murmured.

"Uh-huh, she doesn't like to be left alone, unlike her siblings," answered Rose sheepishly, scuffing her feet and staring down at the floor.

The kitten was small, a little older than a newborn. It was a calico cat, with white fur covered in large, scattered patches of dark brown and orange fur, though the orange was especially prominent. It was fuzzy and full of fluff, making the little thing appear chubby and twice its size. Its eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and it was making soft little purring noises.

"Well, sir, its just my cat had some kittens a while ago, and she and the kits had to come with me to Hogwarts. But now, the kittens are getting old enough to leave their mother, so I'm mailing them back home by floo-powder for my Mum to find them good homes. But sir... this one's a runt and... I noticed that... you don't seem yourself today," she said shyly. "So, I thought that maybe you'd want a companion... I hate to shove a cat on you, because they can be hard work and all... but my Mum says that animals can be the greatest comfort on earth, and this kitty is really good at comfort... Please sir, for me? Take her?"

England's eyes were still wide-open in shock, staring at the little sleeping kitten in front of him. "Um, uh,' he stuttered and sputtered. Abruptly, the kitten opened its eyes, its lids slowing parting to reveal curious green eyes. The kitten let out a tiny and high pitched mew, reaching out its tiny paws to put them on England's nose. Jeez... how could he turn down such a cute little rolie-polie of fluff...

Gradually, England's heart melted. He stared past the kitten at an anxious Rose. "...Thank you, Miss Zeller," he said quietly. "I'll... I'll try and take good care of her," he promised, coughing awkwardly.

Rose's eyes lit up, and she immediately placed the kitten in England's arms and leaned over the desk, giving England a hug around the neck. England gasped quietly in surprise, not expecting this and unsure of what to do. He awkwardly patted the young girl on the back, cradling the alert kitten in his other arm at the same time. After a few more seconds of Rose hugging her Professor, England began to embrace her himself, placing his head against the side of her own head and rubbing his hand along her back.

"You'd better get to supper," he said quietly. "And don't worry about me," he added, chuckling a bit. "I can take care of myself."

Rose withdrew, her face a little abashed. "I'll be going now." she said. "Thanks for being so nice to me," she added quietly and sincerely, wiping her eyes a bit before whisking out of the classroom. England stared after her, and then down at the kitten staring back up at him. His heart was warm, and Britain felt better than he'd felt all day.

* * *

**Author's Note: (Read PLEASE before reviewing)**

**(1) Hahaha, spot-on Harry! XDD**

**I'm telling you guys. If you like this, and don't review, the longer it takes for me to update. Views and favourites are great and all, but I pretty much ignore them. It's the number of REVIEWS that actually get me to update. I'll share a secret with y'all: I actually have a set # of reviews that I want as a goal before I update usually. And unless that goal is fulfilled or is at least pretty close, I wait until there's more before I update. XD **

**So... in conclusion, review? please? :( It helps because unless I KNOW that people are enjoying the story, then I am not encouraged to write more for you guys. If it appears that no one is enjoying it, then I take MUCH longer. By longer, I mean months usually XD. I can't help it if I'm not inspired. Without reviews, I am hit with HUGE writers block and it gets harder and harder to write more of my fics.**

**I'M SORRY IF THE ACCENTS WERE INNACURATE, I TRIED OKAY? And Wales sounded relatively normal because I really have no clue what the Welsh accent sounds like haha ^^;... Please, be light on the criticism, okay?**

**Erm, I'm not going to use humans names for England's bros all that much... since they don't really have them since they haven't been assigned official names and also since they won't be appearing too much. _But_ (HEAD CANNON TIME :D) Ireland is OBVIOUSLY a Patrick or a Liam (I was going to make him an Alastor, so he'd have a similar name to Scot... which would be kewl ;3) with Scotland as an Alistair (haha, an obvious, overused choice... ^^;), and I thought that Wales could be a Dylan or Carwyn, or maybe Dylan Carwyn Bowen? Or Carwyn Dylan Something? I dunno XD I just adore the welsh names Carwyn and Dylan... so it has to be one of those. I just don't know which XDD.**

**OKAY I'M GOING TO PRETEND THAT NYKOTALIA DOESN'T EXIST, OKAY? ^^;**

**SORREH FOR ANY TYPOS. I USUALLY COME BACK AND TRY TO FIX THOSE, ALRIGHT? :3333**


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